


Nice to See You

by maryforyou



Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: Bus driver falls for passenger, Drawing lessons, F/M, Fascination, Inspired by Paterson (2016), Nudity, Past Separation, Sweet Paterson, Writer's Block, bus driver - Freeform, nude drawing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryforyou/pseuds/maryforyou
Summary: "She was Paterson’s secret indulgence, and even though he couldn’t write about her at the moment, he knew art needed to be created with an image of her in mind."Originally posted on Tumblr at:maryforyou.tumblr.com
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Original Female Character(s), Paterson (Paterson)/Reader, Paterson (Paterson)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Nice to See You

Ever since he was a little boy, Paterson knew he was attuned towards the arts. He remembered that when he was around 4, he had a strong fixation on gifting a drawing to each and every single person he met. He would always walk around with his little backpack filled with colors and a bunch of white sheets of paper in case the perfect occasion or the perfect scenery for drawing should present itself.

Now, a fair amount of years later, he had changed the colors and sheets of paper for a worn down but sturdy journal. When he learned how to read, there was not a single person on the planet who could divert his attention. The fascination with words slowly evolved into the poetry in which he sank into nowadays.

But that familiar introspection that usually filled his mind was missing, and it had been for a while. It had already been around 8 months since Laura had left him, packed her black and white belongings, claiming that she needed to expand her horizons and learn new things. She said that she was on a journey. Paterson knew she meant “a journey without you”.

It was not as if he only wrote poems about her, in fact that was a rare occurrence, even when they were together. He thought the sadness would transcript into full pages of experience and awareness, but for the longest period of time in his life, he was suffering from classic writer’s block.

One day, sitting at Doc’s bar, with Marvin no longer waiting outside, he dared share his predicament with Doc. Aside from Laura, Doc was one of the few people that knew that Paterson wrote poems.

“Maybe you should find a new hobby, you know, get your creativity flowin’.” Paterson watched him as he dried some glasses with a cloth in such a methodical way given only from many years of running the bar. “After the ex-wife left me, I didn’t leave my bed for weeks until a friend of mine dragged my ass out of my house.” When the glassed were all dry, he started placing them on the shelves bolted on the walls.

“He took me to that park, the one with the statue of Lou Costello, you know which one?” Paterson silently nodded as he lifted his pint of beer to take a sip. “They were having a special fair or somethin’, and they had these bunch of tables with clocks in them. That’s where I began playing chess.” His sentence was punctuated by the pointing of his finger, trying to make a bigger impact with his words.

Coincidentally, that night, as he strode towards the bathroom before returning to his empty home, he unconsciously glanced at the cork board in the hall. Standing out as if placed with a figurative spotlight, was a flyer with the list of new classes available in the community center. He considered Doc’s advice, and as he quickly skimmed through the list, one particular option caught his eye.

_Realistic Drawing and Sketching._

It was almost like it was beaconing to him, quick flashes of high school art class and the amenity it provided running through his mind. Listed on Saturdays at noon, it couldn’t have been more fortuitous.

Which is how he found himself standing at the bus stop that same Saturday. The route that passed in front of the community center was the same one drove, so when he stepped inside the transport, he was met with Horatio, the particularly messy weekend driver. Paterson always had to dust his seat on Mondays from the crumbs of whatever snack Horatio had eaten. Sliding his card, he was relieved and disappointed at the same time to see that one seat in particular was available.

_Her seat._

That was what he had come to call it. Each morning at 10 on the dot, she would climb up the steps of the bus, slide her card and offer him a big smile with the same greeting every time.

“Nice to see you.”

The first time she had said it, Paterson promptly did a double take. Her voice was coated with silkiness and her tone so genuine that he had questioned if they had previously met for her to be this friendly with him. Unfortunately, they hadn’t, and even though her warmness had hit him like lightning, after almost three months, he hadn’t advanced from replying to her with a nod.

Third row of seats, driver’s side, the one near the window, that was her seat. Without thinking it twice, Paterson sauntered towards it. Intentionally or not, she always offered him a clear sight through his rearview mirror.

When she would settle, Paterson would often find himself making theories about her. Based on her stop, he assumed she was in college. Maybe she was doing a master’s degree, because even though she looked young, there was a spark of wisdom in her eyes only awarded with experience.

He liked that she didn’t stare at her phone the whole ride like the rest of the passengers. She always looked at the window, only to encounter the same scenery every day. She didn’t even wore headphones to listen to music while at it. Paterson liked to think she liked the randomness of other people’s conversations, just like he did.

At first he had berated himself for thinking so much about her, to which reality so kindly reminded him that Laura was gone and that he was free to have these thoughts. In all honesty, it was nice for a change.

Guilt would still prickle at him, since sometimes, late into the night, Paterson’s brain would picture less than gentlemanly images that had her as the main focus. He would douse her with attention until he was satiated, a very difficult feat if you asked him, especially when it came to the mystery of _her_.

He exited the bus at the same stop she would, the community center was just across the street from the only college in Paterson. He felt a little weird almost tracing her everyday route, but he dwelled on the anticipation of the class he was about to take.

The girl had become a fateful shimmer of diversion in his life, one that he welcomed with all his might. Her four little words had become a constant that he looked forward to each morning, and that he didn’t realize he clung onto dearly until a couple of days ago, when he wrote them as the starting line in a blank page. He had not been able to write any further, easily getting lost in his memories of her graceful walk or her dreamy eyes.

He dreaded the fact that he didn’t even know her name.

She was Paterson’s secret indulgence, and even though he couldn’t write about her at the moment, he knew art needed to be created with an image of her in mind.

* * *

The class was a liberating experience to say the least. He was surprised to see that he remembered some notions from when he was a teen. Everyone had chastised him for signing up for creative writing and canvas painting as extracurricular activities instead of basketball.

“ _But you are so tall, you could be a great power forward._ ” Paterson hadn’t even concerned himself with learning the player positions, basketball was not even his sport. He was a football kind of guy, but in the aftermath of puberty, he was way too lanky for it.

The small new addition to his routine rapidly fell into synch and increased his list of pleasant distractions. As his course advanced and the weeks passed, seasons had begun to change. Paterson soon found out that the girl didn’t like the cold, her constant shivering and extra layers a clear indication of it. It didn’t surprise him, as he always felt a distinct warmness from her. Every time she stepped into the bus, her nose was all red at the tip, it was endearing.

He had been able to begin mustering a “You too” in response to her greeting. The first time he did it, he didn’t miss how she beamed an even wider smile.

Sometimes, when he sat by the waterfalls eating his lunch, the one he packed for himself now, he wondered if he was ever going gather the courage to talk to her. Reluctance arose at the thought of getting out there, the dating world, completely expose himself with a possibility of getting hurt all over again. He thought that part of his life was over, a book closed never to be read again at the corner of a shelf.

One thing was for certain, if he wanted to try and search for that something that poems and songs were written about, he would like it to be with her.

The day he realized this was a Friday, and the promise of Monday filled him with resolve. A small grin conquered his lips as he started to plan. It wasn’t as if he could just ask for her number when she got on the bus, that would seem creepy, and also desperate, what if she said no? Oh God, what if she said no? The thoughts crippled at Paterson’s mind during the rest of his shift.

He decided on asking her a simple question, maybe “Are you from around here?” or maybe a statement such as “It’s getting colder right?” all in hopes that she would take the seat behind him and keep the conversation going a little bit further, just enough to keep her engaged in stop signs or red lights. Maybe that could be her new seat.

* * *

The next day Paterson was drowning in mixed feelings. 

Today’s drawing class was going to be about body proportions and the teacher had suggested to explore the nudity take on it to have a clearer perspective of human nature. Paterson had good spatial awareness, a quality that made him a great driver, but his pieces up to this point had been reduced to scenery or inanimate objects. 

On the other hand, he was excited about the promise of this particular art expression. In the past he had written about the female body, often using nature metaphors and relishing it in general. As Doc had predicted, the classes were indeed boosting up his creativity to the point that he had been able to write a couple of verses already.

After washing the bowl of cereal he had used earlier, Paterson grabbed his keys to begin his walk towards the bus stop. He had even bought a new set of pencils earlier in the week which now rested on the insides of his satchel along with his journal, just in case he was able to figure out the next line of his lonely poem.

He glanced at Horatio when he swiped his card, the man sneaking a big bite of a granola bar that was definitely going to gift him crumbs on Monday. He internally sighed.

Just as he absentmindedly walked towards the third row, he looked up to realize the seat was taken. Covered in a big, cherry wine scarf and a teal coat was the girl, and God if she didn’t look more beautiful today. Her posture was revealing that side profile Paterson had become well acquainted with as she glanced outside, her nose and cheeks flush, matching the fabric around her neck.

The bus began moving again and Paterson panicked. His step faltered as he hurried to the back of the bus, deeply grateful you had been looking away. He had to force down a gulp when he saw her standing up before her usual stop, the one in which he had to get off too. He started fiddling with his bag as she made her way to the back, purposefully avoiding catching her gaze.

He couldn’t explain why he was acting like this. This had been what he wanted, being able to talk to her freely. He could’ve sat behind her, tap on her shoulder and start a conversation. He could’ve casually wave at her. Right at this moment, he could’ve said hello to her and they would both exit the bus at the same time, probably have a little small talk that could change their everyday dynamic.

But the opportunity had taken him by surprise and he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, when the bus came to a halt, he waited until she had stepped outside to stand up himself and quietly go down the steps. As she walked in front of him, Paterson expected her to reach the corner to cross the street towards the college.

His body stiffened when he saw her enter the community center. Maybe he was taking one of the other classes, his brain trying to remember which of the offered classes from the flyer began this Saturday. His reminiscing came to nothing, and when he finally reached the doors of the center, she was nowhere to be seen.

This time sighing out loud, Paterson walked towards his classroom with resignation.

“So as the majority of you already know, for today’s class I managed to convince one of my friends to come and help us.” Paterson frowned, he hadn’t heard anything about somebody coming to help for this class. It made sense though, this was a new subject that maybe needed a little more over the shoulder attention that the teacher couldn’t manage on her own. They had probably talked about it in the group chat that Paterson wasn’t a part of because of his fixation on not owning a phone.

“Come on in sweetheart!” He heard the teacher call to someone outside as he crouched down to take his pencils out and place them on his easel. On his periphery he saw how a couple of students got up to move one of the lounging couches towards the center of the room, just in the middle of the half-moon set up they made when sketching something physical.

At first, his mind didn’t register what he was seeing. In she walked, her body moving with grace as she greeted the teacher with a hug wearing just a robe.

Not really looking at anyone, she stepped forward with confidence, the natural light coming from the windows illuminating her features with tenderness.

“Now remember, proportions are the key to this assignment. Drawing a nude body will provide with a defined visual without concerning ourselves with clothes or layers.” The teacher continued to say some other things, but he couldn’t pay them any mind as he saw how she began unfastening the belt that caged the fabric around her body.

As the robe glided away from her skin, it took all of Paterson’s effort and self-control not to drop his jaw.

It was like looking at a chapter of ‘ _Paterson’s Guide to the Ideal Woman_ ’. Her neck long and elegant in form, shoulders making a seamless slope that covered her arms and ended in her dainty hands. Her breasts with just the right amount of flesh he liked, just the right amount for him to gather in his hands. Nipples immediately hardened at the sudden cold she was exposed to, matching the tone of her unpainted lips. The curve of her waist haunted him in the most blissful manner, and as he trailed lower, her hips the starting line of a pair of legs he desperately wanted to clasp around his body.

She took position in the couch, laying almost completely on her side. Her head was propped up by her elbow and the hand that covered her cheek, the other resting comfortably on top of her hip. Legs slightly bended at the knee, the top one leaned more than the other, leaving her core as a covered mystery for only a lover to resolve.

Her chest expanded as she took a content sigh, ready to remain in that position for the next two hours that now seemed too short for Paterson to finish appreciating her delightful frame. Her expression exuded a serenity he hadn’t witnessed in a long time. With a trembling hand, Paterson gathered one of his pencils and lifted his arm towards the blank page in front of him.

Then it happened.

Her eyes connected with his, a look on her face that clearly spoke four words he tried to undeniably reciprocate despite his awe, and that encompassed the whirlwind of emotions crossing his mind.

_Nice to see you._

And a sight to see she was indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I’m thinking about making this a two shot just for the sake of *clears throat* smut… Let me know if that is something you would like to read! I had never written about Paterson but I love his soft boy aura and enjoyed this a little too much. Thanks for reading bbys ♥


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